


A Little Wicked

by Widowswebb



Series: hellcat [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Bathtub Sex, Blow Jobs, Boba Fett is a simp for reader, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, Light Dom/sub, No Beta, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Riding, Rough Oral Sex, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, brat energy, mando just wants to fuck, no y/n, sharing is caring, this is a set up for throne threesome thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29010330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Widowswebb/pseuds/Widowswebb
Summary: “Did you miss me, cyar’ika?”“Of course. Hate when you leave me here,” you pout back. His hand leaves your throat as he removes his gloves. “I’m lonely.”“You’re hardly lonely. In fact, I just had an interesting conversation with Mando,” he says, hand trailing through your hair, “about what a brat you were being,” he finishes, punctuating his sentence with a tug at your scalp. A moan leaves you before you can even think to stop it.Alternatively: The reader loves Boba, Boba loves the reader, and the Mandalorian just wants to fuck the brat right out of her.
Relationships: Boba Fett/Reader, Boba Fett/You, Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian/Reader, The Mandalorian/You
Series: hellcat [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129316
Comments: 17
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

Boba Fett has been off planet for 10 days now, leaving you behind with the Mandalorian acting as a beskar laden babysitter. You’re bored, so kriffing  _ bored _ , and it’s not like you’re not familiar with the dangers of Tatooine. 

So you get dressed for the day, light white tunic tucked into brown pants which are then tucked into black boots, forearms wrapped in additional white fabric. You exit through the sitting area off the halls of sleeping quarters, the Mandalorian tending to his pulse rifle in the space. His head lifts as you walk by without a word, heading for the exit. With a heavy sigh, he quickly reassembles the rifle and tosses it over his shoulder, walking quickly to catch up to you as you make your way to the sand speeders fixed to the outside of the palace. He caught up to you as you threw a leg over one of the vehicles. His arm reaches out to pull you back from hitting the ignition.

“What the hell are you doing,” he snapped, grip on your wrist tightening as you tried to pull your hand back. His jaw clenched when all you did was roll your eyes and look at him like the answer was obvious. “You can’t just leave like that.”

“The hell I can’t. You and Fett both seem to forget that I’m not a prisoner. I’m bored, and I’m going to Mos Eisley,” you snapped. The Mandalorian huffed in frustration, releasing your wrist before roughly shifting you with his hands on your hips, moving you back on the seat of the speeder and swinging himself into the vacant space. Your eyes widened, hands flying to his shoulders to stop yourself from tilting off the speeder. 

“Fine, princess, but you’re not going by yourself,” he says, igniting the speeder and taking off. You’re nearly knocked off balance before you wrap your arms tightly around his waist in the space below his chest plate. You press your cheek to the cool beskar and squeeze your eyes shut as he navigates to the city. 

You spend most of the early afternoon flitting between vendor stalls and chatting with locals, some of whom you’d known from your time growing up on Tatooine. One woman in particular had seen you and rounded her stall quickly before throwing her arms around you in a tight hug. The Mandalorian stood by, hand twitching towards his blaster for a brief moment, before your arms came up to embrace her back. 

“I had no idea you were back on this Maker forsaken planet!” She laughs. You nod enthusiastically, and the conversation devolves into the two of you discussing what you had missed in your time away. Eventually, you pull away from the woman, telling her you were growing hungry and would be visiting the cantina before heading home. 

You turn to leave, toward the direction of the cantina, when the Mandalorian’s hand grips your shoulder and turns you back to face him. He’d been fairly agreeable to your trip this afternoon, at least as agreeable as expressionless masks could be, but you knew you were about to get an earful for wanting to visit the seedy cantina.

“I just want to get something to eat and then you can take me home, I swear,” you say before he can get a word out. He tilts his head, an approximation of ‘really?’ 

“Somehow, I’m inclined not to believe you,” he replies, modulated voice laced with sarcasm. “There are other places to eat. Like back at the palace.”

“Come on, Mando, today has been fun! Just one more stop!” You cheer, turning to walk away before he can stop you. Behind you, he groans before moving to catch up. 

You enter the dark cantina and make your way to the bar before Mando has a chance to try to remove you again. The human bartender sidles up to you with a grunt, eyes tracing your form as you plop down in a seat. 

“Spotchka and broth,” you demand. The drink is placed in front of you and you take a quick sip as you feel your silver shadow press to your back. The bar is filled mostly with locals, though a few tables towards the dark corners are filled with aliens and humans alike doing Maker knows what. A pair of Rodians scramble out of the seats to your right at the sight of the Mandalorian and he takes their spot, positioning his body to face you. You stare resolutely ahead, refusing to make eye contact. You know what he’s about to say. 

“You didn’t mention drinking,” he grunts. You shrug your shoulders. 

“Can’t have lunch without a drink.”

“Could have it without spotchka, though. I didn’t even think you liked it, you never drink it at the palace.”

“I like a lot of things that you’re not aware of, Mando,” you say pointedly, holding your gaze to the helmet for a beat before the broth is placed in front of you and your attention is needed elsewhere. The Mandalorian lets out a controlled breath through his nose, slowly digesting your statement. He watches as you dig into your food, stopping every so often to take sips of your drink. When you’ve finished the beverage, the bartender refills it without question.

You pick up your second drink, aiming to take a sip before you feel a hand wrap around your knee. The sensation jolts you and you spill a bit of liquid onto the bar top, wide eyes shooting to the man.

“That’s enough,” he says, grip tightening on your knee. You narrow your eyes at him before moving the glass to your lips and taking a comically large sip, nearly draining the glass before setting it down on the bar with a heavy clank. The bartender comes back over and you wave him off, reaching into your satchel and placing a pile of credits in front of him. You feel Mando’s gloved grip on your knee like a burn, the feeling rushing through your body and making your core clench as you continue to watch him. He releases your knee, finger by finger, and you feel lightheaded. “You’re being a brat.” 

You can almost imagine him spitting that out at you through clenched teeth, and his hand spasms slightly at his side. “And what are you going to do, Mandalorian?” 

He stands abruptly, gripping you by the bicep and damn near dragging you out of the cantina. He doesn’t let go until you’re seated on the sand speeder behind him, arms wrapped around his waist as he navigates back to the palace. 

He’s rough with you again as you dismount the bike, pulling you through the entryway and down to the living quarters. He smacks the button for your door and shoves you inside, making you stumble into the center of the room. He remains at the doorway, beskar covered chest heaving as he closes the door on you.

“Asshole,” you yell, stomping to refresher. Outside the door, the Mandalorian braces himself against the wall with one hand, palming his half hard cock briefly before turning and making his way to his own room.

______________________________

Boba Fett returns that night, a new agreement in place with a weapons dealer in the Outer Rim and some intel gained for his efforts. As he enters the sitting room, the Mandalorian is seated once more with his rifle, cleaning it with jerky motions. 

“Something the matter?” Fett asks. Mando raises his helmet. 

“Your girl was being a brat today. Dragged me all over Mos Eisley, including that disgusting excuse for a cantina,” he replied. Fett removes his helmet, his expression taking in the rigid posture and tight grip he held on his rifle. A knowing smile cracked across his face and he huffed a laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“Sounds just like her. Tell me Mando, did that turn you on? Get your cock hard for my little loth cat?” 

Mando thanks the Maker for his helmet, his cheeks warming under the beskar shield. Fett continues.

“I see how she looks at you, I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised,” he says, a smile remaining in place. And he had seen it. Your eyes find the Mandalorian in the throne room even as you sit in your place on his lap. The way you antagonize the other man with your attitude, just as you do with him. He loves you, deeply, and while he knows you feel the same, he’s also under no illusions that you don’t have interests elsewhere, specifically his fellow bounty hunter. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Mandalorian replies stiffly. 

“Listen, Djarin. I love that hellcat with my whole heart, but I’m an old man. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give that girl to make her happy, and if that includes sharing her with you, I’d even be willing to consider it,” Boba replies. He watches the grip on the rifle loosen. “But I want to watch.”

Din can hardly believe what he’s hearing right now. Before he can even work up a reply, Fett is moving on through the sitting room towards your quarters. 

For the second time that day, the Mandalorian is left half hard and reeling because of you.

_________________________

You’re in the tub, eyes closed, stewing over the actions of the Mandalorian at the cantina. You were indignant of being treated like a child that he was tasked with keeping an eye on, rather than a grown woman who knew what she was doing. But the way his hand had grabbed your knee, you begin to wonder if maybe he enjoyed having to chase after you.

The door to your room opens and you crack one eye open. The sound of spurs and heavy footsteps hits your ears and you’re delighted when the door to the fresher sweeps open and Boba steps through. 

“Close the door, you’re letting the steam out,” you say, smiling but not otherwise moving. You hear him chuckle as does what’s asked before making his way over to you. He pulls a stool up, sitting himself down heavily behind your head. His gloved hand comes up to cradle your neck, and your breath hitches as you slowly open your eyes. His brown eyes stare back at you, smirk playing on his lips.

“Did you miss me, cyar’ika?” 

“Of course. Hate when you leave me here,” you pout back. His hand leaves your throat as he removes his gloves. “I’m lonely.”

“You’re hardly lonely. In fact, I just had an interesting conversation with Mando,” he says, hand trailing through your hair, “about what a brat you were being,” he finishes, punctuating his sentence with a tug at your scalp. A moan leaves you before you can even think to stop it. 

“Did my little one just need some attention,” he continues, free hand plunging into the water to roughly grip your breast, fingers rolling your nipple into a sensitive peak. You squirm in the water, already flushed from the heat and feeling your slick start to build between your thighs. “Answer me.”

“Yeah,  _ yeah _ , I just needed some attention,” you pant, his hand switching which breast is receiving attention. His hand leaves your hair to wrap his forearm across your clavicle, pressing you into the tub and pinning you in place to continue his torture. Your hands fly up to grip the arm across your chest as you try to push your breasts further into his grip. 

“Didn’t seem to matter where you got that attention from today, hm?” He teases, hand stopping its attention on your breast to rest against your belly. Your eyelids droop and your breath is heavy as he continues. “You sure worked him up something awful, didn’t you,” he murmurs, right next to your ear. You turn your head towards his face, and he’s still smirking as you desperately lean forward in an attempt to kiss him. 

He draws back before you can succeed and you pout, fluttering your eyelashes at him in fake innocence. 

“I think a brat like you needs a little lesson,” he says, hand on your belly moving to cup your heat. You gasp at the sudden pressure. “Yeah, I think that’s what you need for teasing Mando.”

You bite your lip as he forces your legs to part in the water, fingers drawing a quick, harsh circle on your clit. You squeal, your muscles already wound tight in arousal. With no warning, he plunges two thick fingers right into your heat as his thumb presses to your clit.

“Boba! Fuck, yes,” you groan as he starts a punishing pace, curling his fingers inside you. His other arm moves again, hand curling around your throat once more and tilting your head for him to plunge his tongue into your pliant mouth, tangling itself with yours in a hard kiss. Quickly, your cunt starts to flutter around his fingers and you whine into his mouth desperately, ready to break. 

He removes his hand completely and you cry out in frustration. The hand on your neck tightens just a bit more and you gasp into his mouth. 

“Only good girls get to come, mesh’la, and you haven’t been a good girl,” he grits out. He roughly grabs your thigh, determined to leave a mark on you. His mouth moves to nip your ear. 

“Please, please, let me cum, I promise I’ll be so good for you, Boba, please,” you beg. He chuckles.

“You’ll have to do better than that, princess.”

A desperate noise leaves you as he releases his grip on you. You slip down further into the water, chest heaving, as he stands, kicking the stool away. Standing at the side of the tub, he reaches in with both arms, wrapping one under your legs and the other behind your back, yanking you out of the water. Your hands wrap around his neck as he moves out of the fresher into the bedchamber, tossing your wet form on the bed. You shiver from the chill as you lay there, watching your bounty hunter remove his armor before ripping his clothes off with no ceremony. He stands there naked, his broad form crossed with scars, muscles tensing as he considers you. His cock stands proudly, flushed red, and you lick your lips. 

“Let me show you better, Boba,” you whisper, moving to the edge of the bed, laying on your back with your head hanging toward the edge. You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out in invitation. He approaches, gripping his cock and giving it a sharp tug before dragging the tip across your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut at the taste. “Come on, Boba, let me show you how good I am,” you beg.

He shoves his cock into your mouth, bumping the back of your throat without further preamble. You gag slightly at the intrusion before he sets a rhythm you’re able to manage, breathing through your nose and moaning around his length.

“Fuck, cyare, best fucking mouth in the galaxy,” he grunts, hand resting on your throat as he moves in and out. You preen at the praise, feeling yourself get impossibly wetter. You reach your hand between your legs, barely getting a fleeting touch in before Boba’s hand roughly yanks it back and pinning your wrist by your head. “Did I say you could touch yourself?” 

Despite your mouth being full of his cock, you do your best to shake your head. He pulls out, causing you to gasp for air. 

“Hmm, I still don’t think you’re ready to be a good girl for me. Not if you can’t listen. Certainly means you won’t be a good girl for our friend if I was nice enough to share,” he taunts, pulling you up and turning you to position you with your legs spread in front of his face, glistening cunt on full display. Your eyes are wide as you stare down at him, watching as he kneels down on the floor to bring his face level with your sex. “Maker, you’re soaked, huh? My poor hellcat.”

He licks one broad stripe up your cunt and you sob. He wraps his arms around both thighs, yanking you to his face as he assaults you with his tongue. Your hands twist in the sheets as you try to buck against him. 

“Stars! Fuck! Boba, Boba, please,” you babble. You can feel the bastard smile into your sex as one arm releases you thigh and he just one finger into you. “More more more,” you continue to beg.

“I wonder if you’d beg like this for Mando, my pretty girl. What a site that would be,” he rasps out, before returning his attention. You’re blushing, desperate for release and your cunt throbbing but not full enough. His teeth scrape your clit and a whimper escapes your throat. 

“I’d be so good for you both, Boba, I’d take his cock so good. Do you want that, sir?” You ask, desperate to know his response. You can’t deny thinking about the Mandalorian like that, how it would feel to have him under you or above you, pounding into you with no restraint. You think he’s too controlled, he needs an outlet, that you could be that for him. Boba grunts, lifting his head to slide two more fingers into your entrance. You tip your head back, eyes slamming shut at the feeling of finally being full. “FUCK!”

“Oh, sweet thing, I do, you’d look so pretty split on his cock, maybe you can manage us both, hm?” He asks, tapping your other entrance. Your eyes fly open. 

“Yes, yes, yes, I want that, please, I can do it,” you beg desperately. Your cunt flutters at the thought and you’re so close to shattering. Boba must feel it, because he withdraws, smacking your thigh. You feel tears leave your eyes at another ruined orgasm and you cry out in frustration. 

“Oh, my poor baby,” he says, watching your cunt flutter around nothing. You whimper laying back limply against the soaked sheets. He leans back, spitting once over your hole and using his thumb to drag it up to your clit, pressing down on the bundle of nerves. “You want my cock now, mesh’la? Think you deserve it yet?” 

“Please,” you squeak pathetically. Without warning, he plunges in to the hilt and you scream as he bumps your cervix. He leans forward, caging you in with his body, mouth coming to lick at your breasts. 

“Your cunt is so fucking beautiful, my love, fuck, would live here just like this forever if I could, my cock buried so deep in you,” he grunts as he draws back, slamming back in and jolting you up the bed. You nod your head, tilting your hips to take him even deeper, making you cry out and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and digging your nails into the muscle. 

“I love you, I love you, fuck, so much, your cock is so fucking big,” you pant. His lips find yours and he kisses what breath you still had out of you.

“Cum for me, cum for your king,” he snaps, teeth finding your shoulder and biting down hard. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out as you obey, shattering beneath him. Your vision blurs with more tears as you hit your peak, and it feels like it goes on forever as he keeps pounding into you. 

A few more sloppy thrusts and you feel Boba bury himself as deep as possible, painting your channel with his seed. You sigh, a blissed out expression on your face as he moves his hands to pat your hair off your face. Gripping you by the shoulder, he falls to his back, dragging your body over his to keep you connected.

He’s panting, heart beating wildly beneath where your head rests on his scarred chest. You press a quick kiss to his pectoral and he chuckles, gripping your thigh where it’s thrown over his waist. 

“Was that good, sir?” You ask with a smirk. He smacks your thigh and immediately regrips it with a rough grasp when you yelp.

“Don’t start being bratty again so quickly, sweetheart, I’m an old man and you might give me a heart attack,” he jokes. 

“Good thing you said I could be shared, hm?” You ask, feigning confidence, though you were nervous. You weren’t sure if that was just some fantasy talk he mentioned in the heat of passion, or if he had actually meant it. 

“Yes, my love. I think you’d satisfy our friend nicely,” he starts, moving his hand from your thigh to grip your chin, “but make no mistake about who you belong to. You’re mine, cyare.” He finishes with deadly seriousness. You nod, leaning up to kiss him. His cock slips out of you at the movement and he groans into the kiss, bringing both hands to frame your face and keep you pressed to him. 

You break from him, inching up his chest and burrowing your face into the crook of his neck, nipping the skin. 

“Always, Boba.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once the room is truly empty, both men turn to you. Your breath hitches at having the twin helmets regard you seated on Boba’s throne, and your thighs clench at the danger coiled in their forms.
> 
> Boba removes his helmet and places it on a table before moving to you, eyes dark. You stare up at him as he looks down at you for a brief moment before snatching your arm and pulling you to standing, mouth slamming to yours in a bruising kiss. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you gasp into his mouth, but it’s over before you’re able to even recover as he rips away from you to regard the Mandalorian.
> 
> “Sit, Mando. Watch as I get her begging for us,” he grunts before sitting back on the throne. “Take off your pretty dress, mesh’la. Wouldn’t want to ruin it.”
> 
> Alternatively: Throne room threesome with simp Boba and a stressed out Mando

You look at your image in the mirror, taking in the dress Boba had gifted you. The fitted top has thin straps and a neckline that plunges to right above your navel. The skirt is a sheer fabric but the number of layers compensates for it, billowing from your hips. It’s a deep green color, not unlike the bounty hunter’s armor, and the thought of him picking it for that reason makes you smile. The door to your room slides open, and Fennec steps through, offering a low whistle as you turn to face her. 

“That’s quite a dress,” she comments, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “I’ve been sent to collect you, princess.”

“Seems a bit below your pay grade,” you snipe at her. She huffs a breathy laugh in reply. 

“You’ve got that right, so let’s move along.”

You brush past her as you exit, making your way through the sitting room and coming out on the throne dais. You can see the top of Boba’s green beskar helmet peeking above the back of the throne as he sits, taking in the crowd of people gathered in the space. A collection of mercenaries, smugglers, and arms dealers loiter loudly in the space. A number of patrons are gathered around a large glowing table towards the back playing a rowdy game of sabacc. 

You come up to the back of the throne, snaking your hand around to rest on one of Boba’s shoulder pauldrons. Lightning quick, his hand grasps yours tightly, pulling you forward to stand beside the armrest. He turns his head, taking you in, and you arch an eyebrow at him.

“What do you think?” You ask, swaying your hips to move the fabric of the skirt around in an approximation of a twirl. He tugs your hand gently to guide you around to stand between his spread legs, powerful thighs bracketing your hips as both gloved hands come up to wrap around your rib cage. 

“Maker, you’re a vision, cyare,” he growls, fingertips digging into your skin. You smile down at him. “Do you like it?” 

“I love it, Boba, thank you,” you whisper back. You imagine he’s smiling behind the mask, and your heart stutters at the thought of this powerful, deadly man being absolutely taken by you. 

“Keep an old man company, won’t you?” He asks, maneuvering your body around so that you’re seated across his lap. You lean against him, bringing a hand up to trace his armor absently. A pretty Twi’lek woman approaches with a glass of wine on a tray that she offers you. You smile at her, accepting the glass with thanks and taking a sip. One of Boba’s hands rests between your shoulder blades while the other grips your thigh through the fabric of your skirt. His attention has turned back to the crowd. 

At the entrance, a group of four smugglers has sauntered in, three men and a woman, yelling above each other and stumbling to the bar. With a drink in hand, one of the men, a tall human with dark hair and a cocky grin approaches the throne. 

“Boba Fett! Long time no see,” he exclaims. “Here we all thought you died, but you’ve gone and made yourself a king!” 

“The universe has a way of rewarding the wretched,” Boba replies, hand tensing on your thigh. You take another sip of your wine and watch the man as he continues to speak boldly. 

“And what a pretty little whore you’ve found, too. Tell me, Fett, how many credits for a night with her?” 

At this, Boba sits up, body coiled in fury. You see Fennec stand from her spot at a nearby table, hand on her blaster. “Stand up, cyar’ika,” he states, gaze not leaving the smuggler. You remove yourself from your seat, rounding the throne and standing behind it. 

The doors to the room open again and a lone figure, clad in silver beskar, descends the steps. He’d been off world the last few weeks and you hadn’t spoken to him since the incident at the cantina. When you pressed Boba for information about where he’d gone, he supplied, “He is burdened with the throne of Mandalore. He is needed there if he wishes to restore peace.”

Boba is toe to toe with the smuggler, head turned to watch the Mandalorian enter and approach the two of them. The smuggler is no longer grinning as the second bounty hunter comes to stand next to Boba.

“Welcome back, Mando. Perhaps you can help me,” Boba starts. You can almost hear the wicked smile in his words. “This man has asked how much for an evening with my whore,” he spits out.

The statement is barely out of Boba’s mouth before the smuggler is trying to make a run for the exit. The Mandalorian doesn’t hesitate to pull his blaster, firing one shot to the center of the retreating man's back. He falls to the ground with a heavy thud. His other three companions rush to his body. 

“Let this be a lesson to you all - I do not deal in slaves and whores. That practice has died with the Hutts,” Boba announces to the silent room. The smugglers gather the body and move to the exit. “Everyone, out.”

As the other patrons file out, you move to sit on the throne, crossing one leg over the other. Boba remains standing with the Mandalorian, joined by Fennec, their backs turned to you as they watch everyone leave. Boba leans in to whisper something in Fennec’s ear and she nods once before ascending the dais and disappearing down the hall to the rest of the palace. 

Once the room is truly empty, both men turn to you. Your breath hitches at having the twin helmets regard you seated on Boba’s throne, and your thighs clench at the danger coiled in their forms.

Boba removes his helmet and places it on a table before moving to you, eyes dark. You stare up at him as he looks down at you for a brief moment before snatching your arm and pulling you to standing, mouth slamming to yours in a bruising kiss. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you gasp into his mouth, but it’s over before you’re able to even recover as he rips away from you to regard the Mandalorian.

“Sit, Mando. Watch as I get her begging for us,” he grunts before sitting back on the throne. “Take off your pretty dress, mesh’la. Wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

You undo the fastenings without hesitation, pawing the straps from your shoulders and letting the dress fall to the ground in a heap that you kick away. You’re left in your underwear, your breasts already naked and on display, heaving with every shallow breath you manage. 

“Turn to our friend, princess. Show him how pretty you are,” he demands, and you slowly turn to face the other bounty hunter. You find him seated at the table where Boba had left his helmet, legs spread wide and hand already palming his cock. You feel another rush of heat move through you. “Now come here, little one.”

You turn back to Boba. He’s reclined on the throne in a mirror image of the Mandalorian, thick thighs spread and dark eyes on you. You move to stand between his legs and he pats one muscled leg as he pulls you to straddle him. Your clit rubs his cuirass as you shift on him, making you shiver with want as you hold his stare. 

“Maker, you’re a sight, huh, sweet thing? Bet you’re already dripping for us,” he taunts as his hand snakes up your back and comes around to pinch your nipple harshly. You hiss, back curling into him at the sensation. His other hand comes down on your ass, the smack ringing out in the otherwise quiet room. The sensation makes you groan, head falling back as you grind forward against his armor. “Stand up.”

You scramble from his lap and watch as he removes the cuirass. His hands reach out and grip your underwear, pulling them down to the ground so that you can step out and kick them away. As he moves to sit back up, a hand trails from your ankle, up your calf and inner thigh before you feel his thick fingers probing your aching sex. He lets out a groan, hand pulling away coated in your juices. “Just like I thought, absolutely dripping.”

He brings his fingers to his mouth, licking the liquid from them. Behind you, the Mandalorian’s modulated breath rasps through the vocoder as his hand grips his cock almost painfully tight through his pants, willing himself to calm down as he takes you in. 

“Kneel,” Boba commands. You drop heavily to the rough sandstone, bringing your hands up to the armor on his thighs. He reaches into his pants, drawing his length out. As many times as you’ve fucked Boba Fett, you will never tire of looking at his cock, flushed a gorgeous dusty pink and thick even in his own hand. A bead of precum pearls at the head and you lean in to lick it, groaning at the taste. His hand comes up to tangle in your hair as you close your mouth over the head and waste no time sucking him into the heat of your mouth. A gritty moan punches out of Boba’s chest as you work down his length. “Just like that, little one.”

“Mando, come here,” Boba beckons to the other man. He stands, making his way to stand at Boba’s shoulder, staring down at you sucking his cock. Your eyes open, looking up at him through your lashes. “Pretty thing, isn’t she? You want to feel her?”

“Yes,” he grinds out without hesitation. “Want to fuck her within an inch of her life.” 

His words make you moan around Boba, causing him to grip your hair harder. He thrusts into your mouth, making you gag slightly around his length, and your eyes find the silver helmet again. Boba tugs you off his cock, and you come up gasping, a line of spit still connecting you to him.

“Lay back,” he demands, and you move to obey. “Make her come, Mando, then you can fuck her.” 

The Mandalorian is silent and still for a moment as you lay there staring up at him. His hands come up to grip his helmet, releasing the seal and pulling it over his head. It’s the first time you’ve seen his face, any part of him, actually, and you’re struck by how handsome he is. His skin is golden, a sharp jaw sprinkled with stubble, his lips pink and plush and framed with a dark mustache. His brown hair is disheveled from his helmet, but it looks soft and you can’t wait to run your fingers through it. He’s got a strong nose and pretty brown eyes that are dark with need as he sets the helmet down on the armrest of the throne. His eyes don’t leave yours as he also unfastens his chest piece, beskar falling with a clang to the floor. He removes his vambraces, followed by his utility belt and the armor on his legs. 

Finally, devoid of armor, he makes his way to stand by your feet before dropping to one knee, then the other. “Spread your legs, mesh’la,” he says, unmodulated voice raspy with desire. You obey, bending your knees and keeping your feet on the floor as you spread yourself for him. His hands come up, resting on your shins before trailing up your thighs as he crawls closer to your center.

You were positively soaked now after sucking Boba’s cock, and a gloved hand reaches your slit and trails through the wetness. 

“Fuck, stars, you weren’t kidding, Fett,” Mando groans, bringing his hand to his lips and licking the moisture from his gloves. He lets out a moan. “Sweet, too. That why he calls you sweet thing, little one?”

You moan, hips bucking up at his words, desperate for any sort of relief. Your head turns to find Boba seated on the throne, watching you, his brown eyes pitch black with desire. He smirks back at you. 

“Sweeter if you get it from the source, Mando. Don’t keep her waiting too long,” he replies.

The Mandalorian moves to lay on his stomach, and you have a brief warning in the form of his warm breath on your cunt before he’s got his mouth on you. Your hips buck in surprise, and a strong arm comes up to press you back down to the gritty floor. 

“Fuck, oh fuck, yes,” you moan out, arching your back. His mouth is devastating, the sensations almost everywhere at once as he alternates between sucking your clit between his lips and lapping hungrily at your entrance. His eyes flick up to your face as you try not to unravel. 

He reaches a hand between your legs, fingers pressing to your entrance before two slip in with little resistance as you cry out, hands coming down to tangle in his hair. He pumps his fingers, curling them up and reaching that spot inside you that punches the air right out of you. 

“Mando! Fuck, please let me come, please,” you beg, clawing at his shoulders. You spare a glance at Boba and watch as he loosely fists his cock at the sight of you falling apart on another man’s tongue. The Mandalorian’s pace speeds up at your plea and you’re falling over the edge with a gush of slick, a moan ripping from your throat. 

He licks at you through your orgasm, careful with the pressure, before drawing his fingers out with a final scrape against your over sensitive walls. Your chest is heaving as you try to catch your breath. A firm grip on your hips causes you to roll over on your belly as he pulls your knees up under you. 

“You ready for my cock, sweet thing?” He asks, dragging the blunt tip of it through your folds. You whine, pressing back against. 

“Yes, Mando, anything, just please put your cock in me,” you moan. With a groan, he sinks into your heat until his hips are flush against your ass. You gasp into the ground, fingers clawing at nothing. Where Boba’s cock is thick in a way that makes you feel like you’re about to burst, the Mandalorian feels just a tad bit longer, his length brushing up inside you in an unfamiliar way. He wastes no time drawing back until just the tip rests in your channel before slamming back in. “FUCK!”

His grip on your hips is bruising as he pounds into you, a series of grunts spilling from his lips. “Fuck, been wanting this since your little stunt at the cantina, you f-fucking brat,” he snaps. 

“Don’t worry, Mando, she got taught a lesson in teasing that night,” he chuckles. He watches as your face twists in pleasure, tears leaking down your cheeks and leaving your eyelashes wet and pretty. “Maker, what a fucking sight. Does his cock feel good, princess?” 

“Mhmmm,” you moan out, licking your lips as you catch his eye. The Mandalorian reaches a hand out to fist in your hair, tugging you up so that your back is pressed to his chest. You wrap an arm around his neck and he releases the hold on your hair to wrap around you chest and grab roughly at your breast as he continues to pound into you. The new angle brings him even deeper and you cry out, cunt beginning to flutter around him. 

“Y-yeah? You gonna fucking come? You gonna come on my cock while he watches? Maker, you’re fucking dirty,” he grunts into your ear as his teeth sink into your neck. 

“Please please please,” you beg, back arching against him. His hand your hip moves to swipe roughly at your clit, and that’s all you need to shatter, locking up tight around him. His hand leaves your breast to circle your neck. 

“Yes! Maker, such a good fucking girl,” he moans, pumping in a few more times before thrusting deep and grinding against you, cumming endlessly into your channel. 

After a moment, he slowly releases his hold on your neck and hip, and you fall to your hands on the floor, panting. He pulls out of you and you feel the head of his spend leak out.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he says, eyeing the mess he made. You sit back, and his hand reaches up to turn your face to his, his mouth leaving a bruising kiss before he stands, pulling you up with him. You stumble to the throne, and Boba reaches out to grip your hips and fold you onto his lap. 

“You did so well, princess, you think you have another in you?” He asks, even as he’s already shifting his length between your folds and letting it tug on your entrance. You shiver, but nod, groaning as he sinks into you. 

Boba grips the back of your neck and your hip as he starts to thrust into you. You mewl into his neck, the sensation overwhelming but not unwelcome after your time with Mando. A hand reaches out to move your hair from your face and your eyes meet the Mandalorian’s where he’s sitting on the armrest of the throne. 

Every drag of Boba’s cock lights up your oversensitive nerves and it’s not long before you’re clenching tightly around him in an orgasm that feels far more syrupy than your other two. The heat rolls over you in one strong wave rather than as a burst of lightning and you gasp, his head turning to crush your lips to his and swallowing your sound. 

He grinds against you as he cums himself, adding to the mess inside you. You sigh into his kiss, your lips tilting up in a satisfied little smile as he slowly stops moving within you. His hold on your neck loosens and without the support, you slump forward, utterly spent, burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

“Are you tired, my little hellcat?” He asks, his hand dragging up and down your back soothingly. You can only nod in agreement. He huffs a laugh, and another hand comes to help you untangle you from Boba, pulling you to stand. The Mandalorian takes your face in his hands, pressing a deep kiss to your lips. 

When he pulls away, he looks content, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and his body isn’t coiled nearly as tightly in frustration. “Thank you, mesh’la. And thank you for sharing, Fett,” he says, pressing one more kiss to your forehead.

You smile at him as you feel Boba stand, wrapping one arm around your upper back before bending and sweeping the other under your knees. You’re too tired to protest, lifting your arms to wrap around and hold onto his neck. He regards the Mandalorian with a nod, smiling as he says, “Pleasure was all mine, Mando.”

You giggle, thinking it definitely wasn’t, and both men smile at the sound. Boba turns to leave, allowing Mando a moment to gather his armor. He also grabs your discarded clothing, depositing it on a chair in the sitting room for you to collect later before he heads to his own room to sleep like a rock. 

In your bed chamber, Boba lays you down on the bed, smoothing your hair back from your face. He removes the rest of his armor and clothing, laying down beside you and watching as you immediately curl into his warmth. 

“Love you, cyar’ika,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Love you more, Boba. Goodnight,” you murmur. His chest rumbles with his light laughter.

“Goodnight, princess.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not gonna do it girl, I’m just thinking about it, I’m not gonna do it
> 
> I did it.
> 
> This isn’t the end of brat reader, simp Boba, and stressed out Mando. I’ve got got ideas.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, but i've spent the last like, three weeks devouring Boba Fett smut and I just FEEL things.
> 
> Also, this is just an elaborate set up for a throne room threesome, thanks for coming.


End file.
